WH13: Old Beginnings
by LordChazzles
Summary: The Warehouse is back. The world has changed. Time for a new group of agents to enter a world of endless wonder... First story, feedback necessary. Thanks - C
1. The Story Begins

Warehouse 13

Old Beginnings

Chapter 1

The year is 2018

Despite what was believed to be the transition of the Warehouse from America to China, it was for naught.

After spending 3 years in its new country, the warehouse sensed doom on the horizon. China has entered into a civil war after the leader of the Capitalist movement was assassinated at a conference. The Warehouse has returned.

The number of artefacts it houses has more than doubled since the last time it was there.

Now back in its old location of the Badlands of South Dakota, the Warehouse requires agents.

More people to experience endless wonder.

On a rocky outlet overlooking a large clearing, a limousine was parked. From where she was sitting, the Warehouses new caretaker could see and sense a familiar life force returning to it, a life force that once brought her and others to a world of endless wonder. As she gazed out of the window, she could see that world, contained behind walls of stone and iron. The old building hadn't been used since 2014, but now it was being filled with a familiar sensation again.

The woman relaxed back into her chair and called to her driver;

"Driver?"

"Yes mam?"

"Begin looking for appropriate applicants"

"Yes mam"

She paused, looked out the window before saying;

"And while you're at it, get Agents Jinks and Donovan on the phone, I think we'll need them"

Meanwhile, in Washington, a case was under investigation.

Marching down the hallway of the DC Examiner's Morgue, FBI Agent Charles Townsend was in a bit of a foul state. Not only did his dry cleaner forget to clean his shirt and his coffee get cold in the morning rush hour, but he was now given a case that was considered a puzzling one, a case a colleague of his described as "the ultimate enigma". However, that wasn't on his mind at the moment. What was on his mind was the examiner he was about to meet.

Her name was Anna Page. She was a blonde bombshell but she didn't let that get her the job at the Medical Examiners. While also looking like a model out of Esquire, she had a brilliant mind. You could ask her any question and an appropriate answer would be given to you the moment the final word left your breath. But the best thing, the thing that Agent Townsend enjoyed more than that, was her laugh. And as he reminisced about the first time he heard it, he styled his trimmed brown hair and straightened his tie. Pushing through the large double doors, his green eyes darted around the room until he found her, bending down to retrieve some equipment from a low bearing cupboard. Walking over to her, he coughed to alert her of his presence. She did not move, instead there was a blank silence before she said,

"I hope you're not staring at my ass, Charles"

Agent Townsend laughed as she stood up, nervously trying to cover himself, and not doing a good job at all. When his embarrassing display was over, he moved onto the only thing that entered his head,

"So where's the vic, office said there was another one"

She walked toward an operating table and he followed as she stated the condition of the corpse

"Yes, and it would seem that our victim was killed the same way as the other two"

"Really, you mean that- "  
She cut him off and pulled back the cover on the corpse, "Yes, her entire skeleton was pulled apart"

Agent Townsend looked down at the table. Lying there was a young woman, couldn't have been older than 25. Her pail complexion matched her peroxide dyed hair. As he looked at the rest of the body, it was apparent the amount of torment she suffered. Her arms were twice the size of his and her legs almost ran off of the table.

"Time of death is placed at 11:03 pm" said Anna.

"That's round about the same time as the others" replied Townsend.

"Yes. Also," she began as she pulled out a magnifying glass, "Notice how she has this butterfly tattoo on her upper arm?"

"Yes?" questioned Townsend.

"A similar tattoo was found on each of the other victims" Anna answered  
"Must be a calling card," replied Townsend.

She pulled the cover back over the corpse and he began heading for the door. As he did, he turned back, cleared his throat, and asked,

"Listen, Anna, I know right now isn't the perfect time but… uh… I was wondering if you wou- well if you'd like to go out for dinner sometime?"

Anna stared ahead, shocked by the question. She'd been in DC for 5 months and in that time, every guy on her floor had asked her out. Her only "friends" were Claire from lab 5 and Charles. He was sweet and kind and she'd always wondered why he hadn't asked her out sooner.

Agent Townsend stared at her, before coming to the realization that what he had just done was a terrible mistake.

"Ahh… sorry, I…uh... I-well I should probably get going" Townsend began.

"Charles… I'd love to" she replied.

"Great!" he exclaimed. He turned quickly, pulled open the door and walked out, in a better mood than before.

Anna smiled and got back to her work. As Charles continued walking toward the elevator, it occurred to him that things were finally beginning to look up. But in 4 hours, his positive disposition on life would spiral into a grim shade of anger.

Meanwhile, in New York, in the dwindling hours of the evening, when the colour of the city's lights were beginning to illuminate the skyline and the sounds of the sleepless citizens echoed through the almost dark, neon lit streets, a woman was being robbed.

As she screamed for help, it never dawned on her that despite all the tales of the grand city of New York, the truth was that she was out of her element. She screamed louder, hoping to draw some attention from any random person from any nearby sidewalk. Unfortunately, she had realized that she was lost in the alleyways that were cascaded in the shadows of the apartment complexes. As she continued to try and break away from her attacker, the brutish thug strengthened himself and shouldered her to the ground. He pulled out a knife and bent of her, as she cried.

"Now, you're going to give me your purse, or you'll find this knife nestled in-between your ribs. Do you understand?"

The woman could only cry in fear as she handed the thug her broken purse, her hand shaking in fear as she did so.

"See," said the thug, "now was that so hard?"  
The woman shook her head in compliance, not wanting to provoke further action.

"Unfortunately for you," he continued, "I can't leave any witnesses"  
As the woman's eyes widened at the sudden realization that she could die here tonight, a saving grace echoed from the dark recesses behind her attacker.

"FREEZE, POLICE! HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!" yelled the voice

A torch shone brightly out of the shadows, illuminating the woman, her attacker and his knife. Footsteps echoed as the police officer approached. As the officer walked under a street lamp, her attacker guffawed,

"Oh, come on now, someone is playing a joke now" he announced.

Under the lamp, in her patrol uniform stood Officer Kayley Dixon, torch firm in hand and gun at the ready in her holster.

"This is no joke sir," replied Kayley, "now drop your weapon and put your hands where I can see them".

The thug stepped away from the woman and approached Kayley.

"Look, honey, isn't it time you went home and prepared dinner?" mocked the thug.

"I don't know, isn't it time that men like you stop spewing pointless clichés?" she answered.

Suddenly, the thug charged for her, catching Kayley off guard. He lifted her off of the ground and threw her into a nearby wall, winding her. As he approached, she knelt down and threw some nearby dirt in his eye, making him drop his knife. Her target distracted, she double uppercut him to the right side of his face, ducked his incoming left cross and did a heavy shoulder throw into his ribs, knocking him to the ground. Now on the ground, she reached around and got her handcuffs, reading him his Miranda rights as she did so.

After calling for a squad car to come pick up the thug, she walked over to the woman.

"Are you okay, mam?" Kayley inquired, observing her for any physical injury.

"Yes, I'm fine thank you," the woman replied, "but how did you find me? I was screaming like a wild hog and no one came"

"Just luck I guess" Kayley replied. She had to settle for that answer, she knew she couldn't explain how she got senses about things, and nearly all the time, they were right.

The squad car arrived and she put the thug into the back of the car. Before she entered the car, she remembered to collect the weapon for evidence. She left the squad car, telling her fellow officer to take the thug to be booked. As she returned around the corner, she could make out a silhouette in the lamp light she'd been standing in not a moment ago. The figure was slim was broad; definitely a man. He bent down, picked up the knife and pulled something out of his back pocket, as he did so, she could see he was wearing purple gloves. Suddenly, her eyes were distracted by a flash of sparky light. It was at this point she withdrew her gun and stepped closer.

"Okay sir," she announced, "I'm going to have to ask you to hand that over to me".

"Why?" answered the man.

"It's an important piece of evidence" she affirmed, keeping her gun by her side at the time.

"I'm sorry. Can't do that" the man replied.

At this point she stepped closer, her gun moving ever so slightly upwards.

"Sir, you must return it, it's now property of the NYPD" she rebutted.

"The man stepped out from under the lamp light and moved closer, form what she could make out, he was quite tall and had a shaved head, he also had a pale-ish complexion.

"You see that's funny" the man replied.

"What is?" Kayley asked.

"Your lying" answered the man.

And suddenly, with a flash of blue light, Kayley Dixon woke up in her bottom floor apartment, still in her uniform, but with no recollection of the past ten minutes

Almost no recollection.

Meanwhile, in a limousine making its way through the busy streets of New York, the man placed a silver bag on the middle section next to him as a woman spoke to him from the other side of the limo.

"Well done Agent Jinks," she said, "Not only have you made contact with the applicant but you also captured the artefact too"

"Well, to be honest mam, I'm not too proud of the whole 'cloak-and-dagger' approach" he replied.

"I know it's not the normal procedure Steve, "the woman said austerely, "but at such a time, one cannot be too careful"

Steve smiled. It had been a while since he'd done this sort of thing. He thought he'd left his days of Tesla-wielding, artefact-snagging adventure behind him. He had fond memories of working at the Warehouse, and of the people he came to call family.

"Mam, if you don't mind me asking, what is this artefact?" Steve asked, returning from Memory Lane

"It's the knife used by Maksim Gellman. He used that knife to kill his step father, ex-girlfriend, his ex-girlfriend's mother and several others before being stopped. This artefact imbues the user with an increased sense of hatred, willing them to use the knife on someone close to them" the woman replied.

"Well, that certainly beats searching for the Triangle Shirtwaist Doorknob" Steve rebutted.

"Indeed" replied the woman

As the limousine travelled away from New York, Steve could only wonder how his compatriot was doing in DC.

"Any new leads" announced Charles, as he entered his floor. During his cab ride over, he had been thinking about how this killer could be pulling apart his victims skeleton. It seemed unorthodox to say the least.

"Nothing yet, but we do have some new evidence" replied his partner, Agent Daryl Johnson.

Charles and Daryl had been together since they both joined the FBI. If it was one thing that they made sure of, apart from having a coffee ready for each other, was to have each other's backs. Daryl approached Charles, handed him a fresh coffee and walked with him.

"What's the evidence Daryl?" asked Charles, sipping down his hot brew.

"Well, it may be nothing bu- "replied Daryl before being cut off.

"Daryl," interrupted Charles, "at this point, any evidence is better than no evidence. The bureau has been at this case for three weeks and he hasn't left us anything. Now what is it?"

"It's a video; CCTV" said Daryl.

Daryl and Charles entered into Charles's office. Charles opened up his laptop and placed the CCTV disc inside.

"When was this taken?" inquired Charles, staring intently at the screen.

"The night of the third murder" replied Daryl.

As they both stared at the screen, they watched some harrowing events unfold. The young woman, the woman that Charles had seen moments go on a slab in the morgue, was being chased through a shopping complex. The woman, Mabel Jacobs, worked at a clothing store and was closing up before her killer turned up. As she was running, from behind her they could make out a tall, muscular figure in a dark grey hoodie. He stormed forwards, slowly chasing after her; a practised predator stalking his prey. As the camera switched angles, Mabel rounded the corner and tripped over a bench; an unfortunate mistake. As she clawed to get up, the camera switched angles, to show the front view on the proceeding events. Just as Mabel was standing up again, she suddenly became very taught and rigid; a faint orange glow encompassing her body.

"Is their audio?" asked Charles, not wanting to miss any details.

Daryl didn't answer, instead he just turned up the sound, not wanting to miss anything.

The video continued. Her killer walked around her like a cheetah circling an injured gazelle. Faintly, they could hear what he was saying, but not much.

"… hurt me… why…. Break"

Mabel begged, the sound of distress and fear emanating from her voice and echoing through the now empty mall.

"Please, I'm sorry" she begged.

And in the blink of an eye, the silence of the mall and the office were destroyed by the screams of agony as the orange light around Mabel intensified. Charles and Daryl watched as her arms contorted into abominable shapes; twisting snapping, breaking. All the while her killer stood there, twisting something in his hands. The two agents watched as first the killer broke her feet and legs, then her arms. Finally, he snapped her spine and then her neck. Finally, his hands stopped moving and he rested what he was holding on his shoulder. In the dim light, it looked like a belt, but more rigid; like a chain. The final shot of the video was of the killer walking off, leaving the hideously deformed remains of Mabel Jacobs to be found the next morning.

The video stopped. Charles and Daryl sat there, shocked and disgusted by what they had seen. Daryl turned to Charles, seeing how his disgust had now been replaced with contempt.

"Get stills, I want this son of a bitch found by tomorrow" Charles grumbled.

"Okay Charles" said Daryl.

Daryl knew that to mess with or even try to talk with Charles at this point was futile. He knew Charles never meant to take cases personally but it was just a flaw he had. As Daryl walked back down the hallway to get some shots from the tape, a young woman walked past him, she was dressed in a smart casual dress up, her dark red hair bouncing a gleam from the lights above her, she moved with conviction, towards Charles is office. Daryl reacted accordingly.

"Mam, I wouldn't if I were you, he's in a foul mood" he said.

"Don't worry," replied the young woman, "I'm expected".

She knocked the door an immediately afterwards it was pulled backwards so fast she thought it was going to come off of its hinges. In front of her stood Charles Townsend, red with anger and sadness over his case.

"What-?" Charles said loudly, but quieting down as he looked.

"Sorry, I'm Claudia Donovan, you sent a memo to the IT department about a virus on your computer".

Charles calmed down, he seemed to feel tranquil when he looked at her. Noticing that he was blocking the doorway, he asked her to come in.

"Thank you for coming. I've been relegated to a laptop for about two weeks" started Charles.

"No worries, I'll have this fixed in no time" Claudia replied, smirking as she did so.

Unbeknownst to Charles, Claudia, whilst fixing his computer, implanted a hidden tracer in his laptops software, allowing her access to previous and future evidence involving this case.

Charles paced back and forth across his office, waiting for Claudia to finish. As he walked, he couldn't help but stare at her. She had an aura about her, one of intrigue and hidden sadness, yet happiness at the same time. Physically, she was very attractive, but that didn't distract him from the fact that she'd been at his computer desk for about 20 minutes.

Just as he approached, she got up,

"All done, shouldn't have any problems. Also I removed a ton of malware so it should run faster too" she announced.

"Well, thank you Ms. Donovan. If I have any troubles, I'll be sure to call for you" Charles replied.

And with that, Claudia exited the room and walked back down the hallway. And in almost the same instant, Daryl re-entered.

"So," Daryl asked coyly, "What was she like?"

"What do you mean?" puzzled Charles

"Oh come on! I know you can do that weird sensory crap. So, what did you sense about her? Stated Daryl.

"Well, from what I could tell, she was a mess aurally. She was happy, sad, intrigued and secretive at the same time" answered Charles.

"Meaning?" Daryl asked.

"Meaning you probably won't be getting her number any time soon" Charles chuckled.

Meanwhile, half a hallway away, Claudia ducked into a janitor's closet, pulled a laptop out of her side bag and attached a thumb drive. Activating the thumb drive now meant remote access to the software in Charles's laptop. She searched through recent activity and found he looked at a disc. Using her hacking expertise, she found that the very same disc had been sent down to IT to have stills taken. Accessing the IT departments hard drives, she downloaded a copy of the disc's content. Having closed the virtual hole, she just came through, she opened up the files and began watching. When she reached the part when the woman on screen became rigid and glowed in a faint glow, she enhanced and zoomed the image. Shocked by what she saw, she pulled out her phone and dialled Steve's number.

"Steve," Claudia quickly greeted, "It's me Claudia"  
"Hey Claud. Are you okay? You sound panicked." inquired Steve.

"Steve, the artefact is more dangerous than we realized" she continued.

"Wait what do you mean" he puzzled, sounding more worried than before.

"It's Torquemada's Chain" she answered desperately.

"What?" replied Steve.

"Tomas de Torquemada's chain. It's was part of a rack used by the Spanish Inquisition. It can stretch and contort people to death" she rambled.

Steve looked up from his phone and stared at the direction of the Caretaker.

"We have a problem" Steve said coldly.

"I know," replied the Caretaker, "it would seem that we will have to play our hand early"

Steve continued staring at the Caretaker, a puzzled look on his face.

"Driver," said the Caretaker, "turn this car around".

The driver complied, the tires squealing as the car made a swift turn.

Steve remembered that he was still on the phone with Claudia and began talking again.

"Claud, don't worry, we're getting some help" he stated.

"Okay" Claudia replied, her stress alleviated a bit.

"Just make sure Agent Townsend doesn't do anything stupid" he said. And with that, he hung up.

Claudia, now feeling more relaxed thought to herself "How much trouble could he really get into"

Closing up her laptop, she left the closet and headed to the break room. As she began pouring herself some coffee, an agent peered his head into the room and announced to the other two agents in the room with her,

"Guys, more evidence has come in, Townsend thinks he's got something and he's called a meeting. Let's go".

The agents left their coffees on the table, following the other agent down the hall. Claudia sighed to herself, thinking "Oh Charlie boy, what have you done now?" before slyly following them.

Standing outside, the briefing room, she could hear what Charles was saying,

"Our killer has been leaving nothing for us to go on, only this time he's slipped up. We've got a link to a night club; the Chrysalis Club. All the girls who work there have a butterfly tattoo on their upper arms and all of the victims have this same tattoo. It would seem our killer likes to frequent this place so I want every available officer at that club in the next half an hour. We're gonna nail this son of a bitch and we're gonna do it tonight".

Darting around the corner, she waited until the agents were out of earshot before calling Steve again. Engaged. So she sent him a text;

Dear BFFEWYLION

Townsend making a move

Get your butt over here

Finishing the text, she wondered why Steve wouldn't be answering.

Meanwhile in New York, Officer Kayley Dixon was out of her uniform, pacing her apartment, trying to recollect her memories of what had happened that night. From what she could remember, there was a screaming woman, a knife and a tall man in purple gloves. Apart from that, her mind was drawing blanks.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Kayley stared at it for quite some time, wondering who it could be. As she motioned toward the door, her mind began drawing up questions. How did she get home? Who was at the door? Did they know how she got there? Why couldn't she remember anything? She hoped that when she opened the door, she'd get her answers.

Opening the door, she was confronted by a tall gentleman. Smartly dressed in a suit and trench coat, he had hair like a lion's main, but it was brown with grey inflections. He had a beard with similar colouration to hair that sat neatly across his pointed jawline and around his small mouth. His nose was pointed and he had small blue eyes that were surrounded by wrinkles. Despite what she could observe, Kayley could not get a vibe from him.

"Hello Ms. Dixon, I am Agent Hunter, I'm with the Secret Service. May I come in?" asked the man.

Kayley, shocked as to why a Secret Service Agent would be at her door, let him in, not wanting to stir up an issue within her own government should that have been the case.

But it wasn't.

Agent Hunter walked past her with a certain elegance reserved for monarchs or world leaders. He walked into her living room and sat time, making sure he did not sit on his coat as he did.

"Can I help you Agent Hunter?" finally replied Kayley, now out of her awe struck stupor as she walked into her living room.

"Yes, perhaps you can," replied Agent Hunter, "I assume you are having memory troubles".

Kayley was surprised. She'd only just been thinking about her memory problems when he answered the door and even then, she had no answers for why her memory of the past few minutes was so shoddy.

"Yes," she replied, "How did you- ".

"It's called a cognitive block. It's caused when someone receives a mass amount of electricity to their body and neural cortex," stated Agent Hunter, "Here, allow me".

Agent Hunter motioned for Kayley to face him. She did so, knowing not what to expect. He pulled out a set of purple gloves and slid them on. Then he pulled out a pair of cuff links. From what Kayley could see, the cuff links were very regal. They had a vine design all around them and they bore the initials "WW". Agent Hunter grabbed her wrist and positioned her hand so that it was faced palm upwards.

"Now, it may sound preposterous, but when I give you these, I want you to stare at them. When you do, your memory should be restored" said Agent Hunter.

He placed the cuff links in her hand, setting them so the initials on both cuff links faced her.

"Now concentrate" he said.

Kayley stared at the cuff links, concentrating on the missing spaces of memory. Suddenly, it was as if an old light switch had finally been turned on. She could remember getting the vibe about the woman in the alleyway, stopping the criminal and arresting him. He could also remember the man in the purple gloves and how he had taken the attacker's weapon before shooting her with a stun gun of some kind. She gasped.

"I remember," she blurted out "I remember everything".

She stared down at Agent Hunter's hands as he returned the cuff links to his inside pocket; he was wearing purple gloves.

"I can tell," said Agent Hunter, "your reaction to these gloves shows that".

He removed the gloves and stood up. Kayley imitated him, not wanting him to leave when she had so many questions.

"Ms. Dixon, what you have experienced tonight is only bestowed to a chosen few. But I'm sure you have questions" said Agent Hunter removing his phone from his pocket.

Kayley now had thousands of questions pouring into her head. The only thing stopping her from suffering from a serious case of verbal diarrhoea was her mouth, which was locked shut like a floodgate. She didn't want to embarrass herself in front of this Agent so she kept her first question short and sweet.

"What did you just do?"

"I used Walter Winchell's Cuff Links to help you remember your forgotten memories of the past half an hour" replied Agent Hunter.

"How does that work?" she retorted as she thought to herself "Whose Walter Winchell?"

"To keep the explanation from overwhelming you at this point, I shall tell you this; the cuff links are bestowed with the ability reveal answers to people due to the experiences they have had" answered Agent Hunter.

"Okay then," replied Kayley, who sat down trying to comprehend what the agent had just told her.

"These aren't the only objects with special abilities, Ms. Dixon," continued Agent Hunter, "There are many objects with abilities, from corrosive spray paint to medallions that grant the users temporary immortality".

"And you, what," asked Kayley, glancing up at the agent, "Use these objects to help out random cases?".

Agent Hunter wasn't listening; he was busy sorting through his phone looking for an image that would help Ms. Dixon in her search for answers.

"This," started Agent Hunter as he showed Kayley his phone, "Is Steve Jinks. He was an ATF agent until he was interred at a government facility in South Dakota".

Kayley took one look at the photo and connected the dots; this was the man in the purple gloves from the alleyway.

"What about it?" she asked"

"The facility, codenamed Warehouse 13, acted as a storage room for objects like the cuff links. It held many of these artefacts until it disappeared off of the grid in 2014 and resurfaced in China" answered Agent Hunter.

"So why is this Jinks guy still doing his job?" inquired Kayley, standing up as she did so.

"That, my dear, is the question of the hour," stated Agent Hunter, "My sources inform me that the warehouse is back on American soil and that they are looking for recruits".

Kayley looked at the agent, then back to his phone again, wondering about this mystery man.

"Which is where you come in, Ms. Dixon" stated Agent Hunter.

Kayley looked at him surprised; what ulterior motive did he have for coming here? She backed away and glared at him.

"Okay pal, what have you got planned?" she angrily asked.

"Nothing quite so dark as what you're thinking, Ms. Dixon. In fact, the wheels of my plan have already been set in motion" quipped Agent Hunter.

He reached into her pocket and pulled out a black cased cell phone before throwing it to her. She glanced over it; it was a burner cell, not uncommon in illegal activity. This only made her more suspicious. What did this "Agent" Hunter have planned?

"What do you mean?" Kayley asked.

"Your 'initiation' into the warehouse's infrastructure began when Mr. Jinks interacted with you in the alleyway moments ago. His job was to find you and recruit you," announced Agent Hunter, "He should be here in about ten minute to sell you the job".

"And what am I supposed to do? What's with the burner cell?" she questioned.

"When he arrives, you will listen to him and you will agree to join him at the warehouse. I want you to report to me about everything that you do." continued Agent Hunter.

"Why?" asked Kayley.

"Think about it Kayley," said Agent Hunter, "This warehouse houses objects of various powers and abilities. What if they have an artefact that could cure cancer worldwide. Forever. Or what if there was a global war ending artefact? The possibilities are endless."

Agent Hunter stepped toward Kayley, grabbing her by the sides of her head, and positioning her to stare directly at him.

"The warehouse could save the world and yet they hide these artefacts from the rest of the world. I want to make the world a better place but to do that I need your help" stated Agent Hunter.

"I can do that" agreed Kayley.

"Good, now Mr. Jinks will be here in due haste so I'll get out of here. Now, I want you to pretend we never had this little chat; make him believe he got here first, okay?" Agent Hunter continued.

"Okay?" Kayley replied.

Agent Hunter walked toward the door. He suddenly stopped, turned around and handed Kayley a hawk feather, placing it in her hand.

Before Kayley could even role her question of her tongue, Agent Hunter was informing her of the object she now held.

"It's one of Will Ritson's Hawk Feathers; as long as you are holding it when Agent Jinks arrives, there should be no problems. It's just a precaution, okay"

Kayley glanced at the feather, then back at Agent Hunter. She knew what he was saying was preposterous and yet, she trusted him.

"Okay Agent Hunter" said Kayley.

Agent Hunter grinned and walked back toward the door. Just before closing it and disappearing into the night, he leaned back in and said;

"And Kayley, call me Lionel".


	2. The Plot Thickens

"Well done Charlie, you caught him" greeted Daryl, as he and Charles walked toward the FBI interrogation room.

"This isn't over yet Daryl" greeted Charles, "He hasn't said anything since he's entered custody. But don't worry; I'll get him to talk"

They both walked down the hallway and came to two doors, Daryl entered one into the viewing gallery and Charles entered the other; into the holding pen of the killer.

Charles stared at the man in front of him. He wore the same clothes he was wearing from the tape, albeit dirtier than before. He was away with thought; his eyes fixed to a random corner of the room. The fear in his eyes betrayed the façade of uncaring he was trying to portray. Charles placed his files down on the table, sat down and began the interrogation.

"Interrogation of suspect Jason Kowalski beginning at 11:30 pm on Friday the 4th of May, 2018," started Charles, "Are you Jason Kowalski?"

Jason sprung into alertness, taking a deep breath before answering.

"Yes, I'm Jason Kowalski"

Charles continued;

"I'm Agent Townsend I'm with the FBI. You have been arrested for the murders of Mabel Jacobs, Anna Saltman and Beth Hernandez, is that correct?"

"Yes it is"

Now that the preliminary questions were done with, Charles could get really stuck in;

"How did you do it Jason? How were you able to kill those women?"

Jason looked up, a small smirk dirtied the side of his mouth.

"I didn't kill them"

Charles chortled at the bravado Jason thought he had.

"Don't play dumb, we have video evidence of you killing Mabel Jacobs. We also have you on cameras at the Chrysalis Club with each of the victims on separate occasions, especially on the days before their deaths".

"So what," started Jason, "I hung out with a few broads that are dead now and suddenly I'm the bad guy"

"Then explain yourself" replied Charles

"Look, from time to time, I like to go to the club and just hang out with whoever's down there. On occasion I have been known to date the bartenders and waitresses. But that doesn't mean that I'm a killer" said Jason.

Charles stared at Jason. That was his go to move; it made the suspects uncomfortable.

"Oh come on," Charles blurted, "You can't expect me to believe that. Not even an idiotic fish would believe that"

Reaching into his files, he pulled out a wad of photographs. He turned them over to Jason. Viewing from afar, Daryl watched as Jason elicited a reaction; unfortunately, one Charles was not expecting.

"That's not me"

Charles wasn't going to be faked out.

"Really? Prove it"

"I can prove it" said Jason.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and from his wallet two pieces of credit card size paper. He handed them over to Charles, who stared at them intently.

"How could I have been in the video at…" started Jason, looking at the photographs, "…17:30 pm, when I have two cards telling me I wasn't"

Charles continued to look over the cards; one was a library card, the other was a clipping from a receipt. The receipt showed he'd purchased several groceries, a torch and a box of dog biscuits at 17:30 pm from a 7-11 half a mile away from the mall.

"And your library card? What will this show me?" Charles asked dryly.

Jason smiled, he had one thing over his interrogator.

"That is not my library card, it's the killers" Jason said, a sense of pride in his voice.

"Really?" Charles said sarcastically, "And how did you get it?"

"Walked out of the nightclub and found it on the step, then I put it in my pocket" replied Jason.

Charles's eyes widened, as did Daryl's from behind the mirrored glass. Removing the receipt from covering the vital piece of evidence, Charles glanced over the card. He sighed, then returned his gaze to Jason.

"Your free to go" said Charles as he left the room.

As the door closed, Jason could only gasp in exasperation as he was now free.

Outside the interrogation room, Charles swiftly looked down at the card before his arms rested by his side and he sighed heavily, looking deflated. Daryl walked out of the viewing gallery and greeted his friend.

"So," asked Daryl, "What's on the card; do you have a name?"

Charles handed Daryl the library card;

"The name is scratched out, luckily, due to the photo id, we can probably search for him on the database" replied Charles, wiping his tired face.

"But that's good, isn't it?" asked Daryl, looking at the card before handing it back to Charles.

"It's just- I really felt that it was him, he felt like he was the killer to me" Charles replied.

"Look, maybe your person-reading techniques are on the fritz. You've been up since two 'o'clock this morning. Why don't you go back to your office and catch a rest for a few minutes; I'll cover for you" Daryl said, reassuring his friend.

Charles nodded in acceptance of his current tired state. He shook hands with Daryl and trudged down the hallway; back toward his office.

From the moment Agent Hunter left her apartment, Kayley had been on her couch, drinking the remnants of a bottle of wine from New Year's Eve. Every pouring of the bottle, every gulp from the glass, every clank of her glass on the coffee table, the only thing running through her mind was the same thought; what have I got myself into.

As she placed her glass back down for her third does of wine, her thoughts drifted back to what Lionel had said;

"I want to make the world a better place but to do that I need your help"

She thought to herself, "What have I got to do with this? Why I am being involved with this, I'm just a cop? Who is Agent Hunter? How did I get to my apartment?"

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Despite the fact she had been previously told who it would be, the shock still over took her. She put the wine back in the fridge and slowly walked up to the door. She calmed herself down and reached for the door handle. Just then, she remembered the feather Lionel had given her, she reached for her pocket, but held back as she realized; nothing had happened yet.

Safe in the knowledge that her 'back-up plan' was in her pocket, Kayley opened her door. There standing in front of her was the man in the purple gloves, the man in Agent Hunter's photo; Steve Jinks. He smiled as he greeted Kayley;

"Hello mam, I'm Agent Jinks, I'm with the Government. May I come in?"

Kayley already knew who he was, but in order to get the information Agent Hunter needed, she'd need to play along.

"Of course sir, please come in" Kayley replied, stretching her hand out into her apartment as her welcome.

Agent Jinks walked into her apartment slowly. Almost immediately, Kayley noticed sensed that he was in a state of nervousness. His hands were down by his side; barely moving and he walked with stiffened legs. He entered her living room as she closed the door and when she turned around, she saw him gazing out of her window.

As she entered her living room, she remembered that when she found him in the alleyway, he told her he knew she was lying. She even remembered that, at the time, she WAS lying. She reached into her pocket and grasped the feather, fearing that he may find out the truth.

"What can I do for you, Agent Jinks?" Kayley asked.

"Well, I'm not sure you'll remember but you stopped me in an alleyway a few hours ago. You were after a guy with a knife" replied Steve.

Kayley quickly adjusted to the situation; reminding herself that she doesn't have any recollection of those events, or at least, she wasn't supposed to.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to hide her secrets, "I'm having a hard time recalling anything about that"

"That'll be my fault, I stunned you with this" stated Agent Jinks.

Out from behind him, he pulled a weird looking gun. It was metallic but also glass. It had a dial on one side and a brass nozzle at the end. Kayley stared at it, a real look of wonderment on her face.

"From now on, Officer Dixon, you'll be working for us" said Agent Jinks.

Kayley feigned intrigue; she now knew about the warehouse and that she was a recruit, but she acted surprised when Agent Jinks said her name.

"What do you mean?" Kayley spouted.

"You will be working with me and a few other government operatives at this location" Agent Jinks replied, handing her a letter.

Before she could open it, Steve grabbed her attention away from the letter.

"However, right now, we need to get you to Washington" stated Agent Jinks.

"Why?" asked Kayley, her intrigue only growing.

"We have another applicant that needs assistance, come on" replied Agent Jinks as he headed for the door.

Kayley, slipped on her trainers and a leather jacket before following Agent Jinks out of the door.

That would be the last she ever saw of her apartment.


	3. Something, something Writing

Meanwhile back in Washington, Claudia had re-entered Charles's office. She had come back because her software was now suffering a huge problem due to the backlog of information it was processing and so she had to gain access to the laptop again. She rounded Charles 's desk and sat down.

"What kind of idiot doesn't at least program appropriate filters?", Claudia angrily said to herself, "Oh yeah! Me!".

She opened the laptop, hacked the password and was now surfing through the command prompt, searching for her software.

"I really must be losing my touch" she thought to herself.

Finding her software, she loaded it up and reset it.

"Now to add the filter".

As she was typing away, she got lost in nostalgia. A year after the warehouse moved, she moved to Menlo Park to live with her brother, Joshua. And three weeks after that she was hacking into the Japanese grid, monitoring the Warehouse's operations from her brother's living room. Her mind drifted back, to the days of Artie, Pete, Myka, Steve and her, laughing it up a Leena's Bed and Breakfast before travelling to the warehouse to start their latest mission. She fondly remembered the time she was cleaning up and ended up zipping down the zip line, causing a lot of trouble in the warehouse, only to be saved by Pete and Myka. She missed the warehouse, she missed Artie and she missed the sense of adventure. An adventure she could now help others experience. However, her little trip down Memory Lane was suddenly cut short by the sound of a rather loud cough.

Claudia looked up. There, leaning against the open doorway was Charles, a surprisingly calm look on his face. Claudia shut the laptop. As she began to leave, Charles stepped in.

"I've had a rough day. I'm tired beyond belief and I don't want to argue. So if you could please tell me what you were doing, we'll be fine" Charles said calmly.

"Uh…uh" Claudia stuttered.

Charles walked around her and opened up the laptop.

"So, a program that can monitor my files. Mind telling me what it's doing here?" asked Charles.

"Look," replied Claudia, "Agent Townsend, you wouldn't believe me if I told you"

Charles sat in his leather desk chair, reclined and straightened his jacket.

"Try me" he dared.

"I'm an agent working for a top secret government facility that collects strange objects and keeps them from the world. The reason the software is on your laptop is so I can monitor your case and help out so that when it is over, you can be easily hired on" Claudia blurted out.

Charles sat there, wide eyed and confused. Eventually he got up and walked over to Claudia.

"Ms. Donovan. As I said, I'm tired, so I'm going to call security to come detain you" Charles said, moving her close to the door.

"No wait, you have to believe me" cried Claudia.

"I don't have to believe jack!" replied Charles.

The doorway grew closer to Claudia as Charles continued pushing her toward it.

"I know what the weapon is" Claudia desperately cried.

Charles stopped pushing her, then waited for Claudia to recover.

"You know what the weapon is?" Charles said, intrigued and slightly angry at this ignored information.

"But like I said," continued Claudia, smoothing her jacket, "It's going to be hard to believe".

"Go ahead" replied Charles, inviting her to the chair in front of his desk as he sat in his leather one.

Claudia walked over to the chair and sat down, bringing her laptop case onto her lap. Charles then sat in his chair, closed his laptop and listened in to what Claudia had to say.

"It's a chain from the torture rack of Spanish Inquisitor Tomas de Torquemada" stated Claudia.

She pulled out several photographs and handed them to Charles. Charles flicked through them. There were several photographs of the chain, on of Torquemada himself and another on of a list of previous victims. One of the names caught Charles's eye.

"Daniel Dickinson?" commented Charles, "This thing killed Daniel Dickinson?".

Claudia didn't know Dickinson but from what she had garnered from Pete and Myka, Dickinson was there old boss and a good friend who was killed by a guy out for revenge on Artie.

"It was a case that my old colleagues worked on, they caught the guy and recaptured the artefact", continued Claudia, reclaiming the photographs, "but the object itself is what we must focus on".

"Okay," replied Charles, "But how does a 14th century chain link to these murders?"

"The chain," Claudia informed, "when held at both ends and pulled, can cause massive internal to whoever the user wills it to attack"

"Wills it? How do you 'will' an object to do something?" asked Charles.

"It's complicated," answered Claudia, "but the problem lies within the after effect"

"What after effect? asked Charles, a sense of fear enclosing around his mind.

"Well, every time the person uses the chain, it takes away a piece of their humanity" replied Claudia.

There was a pause in the conversation, during which Charles tried to wrap his head around a chain that could kill people by pulling them apart, while also destroying the user's humanity. Claudia put the name list and the rest of the photographs back in her bag. Buckling up the bag, her gazes returned to Charles, who was staring of to the side, muttering to himself, trying to piece together what had just been thrown in his face. This gave Claudia time to give Charles a good look over. She wondered what the new Caretaker saw in Charles. He had tenacity and a good work ethic, but aside from that, she didn't see what made him warehouse material. However, she had a job to do, and so she agreed she would just roll with the punches.

"Agent Townsend?" Claudia asked nervously.

Charles snapped out his little trance, breathed in heavily and returned to looking at Claudia.

"So, if we catch this killer and collect this, what did you call it, 'artefact'," Charles said as he scratched his head, "You'll help me finish my job?".

"In a word; yes" replied Claudia, just wanting him to get on with it.

"Okay then, let's get to work" stated Charles.

"Okay, let's go then Agent Townsend" said Claudia as they both walked to the doorway. Suddenly, Charles turned to her;

"Please call me Charles" he insisted.

"Okay, call me Claudia" she replied as they headed out of the door.


End file.
